Silk
by Traxits
Summary: Iroh offered him a strange smile, one that bordered between his usual goofy grins and something harder; almost cruel. Something that seemed much more at home on the Dragon of the West's face than the uncle that Zuko knew. "Make him be the unreasonable one. Bend him to you instead of trying to break him." / / Prisoner of war fic.
1. Capture and Demands

**Title**: Silk  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Chapter Rating**: Teen.  
**Chapter Content Notes**: Mild violence.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 2198 words.  
**Author's Notes**: This fic is an alternate timeline fic set at a change in episode 4 (the Warriors of Kyoshi) of season 1, where Aang and Sokka and Katara all stop that the Kyoshi island. Originally, I planned on submitting this story for Kinked, a big bang on , but sadly, I missed the deadline, and after rereading it, decided it really wasn't all that thematically appropriate.

After much internal debate, I decided to go ahead and start uploading it. Unlike most of my fics, which tend to be written in chapters of similar length, this fic is written in 'parts' that may indicate a scene or narrator change and their length varies wildly. I plan on posting at least one part per chapter, and no matter how long the 'part' is, I will post it in its entirety rather than break it up to span multiple chapters. Because of this, the chapter length in this story will vary accordingly. For our first 'chapter', I give you the first two parts.

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**(1)**

He wasn't going to make it. Sokka had seen that the moment that he had locked in combat with that bastard of a prince. The Kyoshi warrior dress was heavy, far heavier than the tribal garb he'd brought from home, and as he did his best to avoid fire blast after fire blast, he spotted Katara across the town. Suki had her by the arm and was dragging her away; Suki was a good girl— and not just a girl, but a warrior. She knew what was happening, understood that there was no other way for this to end.

Instead of shouting, drawing attention to them, Sokka adjusted his grip on the fan, and he forced the prince to watch him, to continue the fight. He didn't dare let up, even when the flames skated over his arm, even as he could smell the smoke from the village burning. He could smell burning flesh; he could hear the screams of the villagers as they ran through the village, struggling to put out fires. He screeched when a hand wrapped in his hair, and then the water poured out of the sky, the Unagi soaking everyone and effectively ending the fight.

Zuko spun around, his hand still tight in Sokka's hair, as he snarled and shouted his orders. "Don't lose sight of him! Back to the ship!"

Sokka struggled to get free, gasping when he felt the steam pouring off of Zuko's skin. The firebender literally boiled the water off of his skin and clothes, and Sokka jerked as far as he could to get away from it. Zuko seemed to remember him in that moment and glared down at him. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, and then the Fire Nation soldiers ran up behind them.

Zuko didn't say a word, only jerked Sokka along behind him, hand still tight around his ponytail, as they ran to the ship. Sokka's heart stopped as he really realized what was happening, as he watched Appa fade away into the distance, Suki and Katara both looking back toward the island.

They had left him.

It wasn't like they'd had a choice. Zuko would have destroyed the whole town in an attempt to grab Aang, and they couldn't let that happen. They were there to protect Aang, and if protecting him meant being left behind, so be it. It was his duty to suffer through it.

So he sulked in the small room that they'd stuck him in. He wasn't a bender, so they didn't even bother posting a guard. Instead, they had simply locked the door from the outside, and he was trapped. It was humiliating, knowing that Aang or Katara could have gotten out of that mess, but he couldn't. Not without some kind of outside help or a skill set that he didn't have. After all, it wasn't like he'd had much opportunity to practice picking locks in the South Pole.

They'd taken his hairband as well, apparently concerned that he could do some sort of damage with it. So he was stuck with his hair loose around his face, still wearing that awful make-up and the damned Kyoshi warrior dress. He was glad that it was so heavy, since they weren't giving him blankets. He sat across the room from the single window, just a narrow rectangle across the top of the room that let him see the sky.

There wasn't a light in the room either. In fact, it looked more like a small storage closet than anything, except that there was a cramped washroom in the back. No running water to the sink though. Meals were dropped off occasionally, and Sokka ate, glad that they hadn't forgotten him as much as he was scared they might. It was two days before he saw Zuko again.

He wished it would have been longer.

The lingering make-up felt awful against his skin, but he didn't dare soil the uniform any further by rubbing it off onto the silk threads. He wouldn't dishonor the warrior who had been kind enough to share her uniform with him. He couldn't get the last of the make-up off with just his fingers though, no matter how hard he worked at it. He was in the middle of rubbing fiercely at his eyebrows when the door flew open.

After two days of the door opening just enough to slide a meal tray in, the door opening so far that it bounced off of the wall was enough to make him jump. He leaped to his feet, hands in tight fists at his sides. Zuko scowled at him, and Sokka didn't hesitate when he lunged, planning on grabbing something, anything. He couldn't sit there staring at that little slice of the sky forever.

Zuko didn't say a word as he bent the fire from the torches and forced Sokka back. Sokka threw his arm up to protect his face, stomach clenching as the flames glinted off of the gold insignia on the uniform. Zuko's arm slammed across his chest, pinning him against the wall, and Sokka gasped, tilted his head back, and gritted his teeth.

"Where is the Avatar headed?"

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**(2)**

"I'm not telling you."

Zuko's frown deepened, and he clenched his fist. The Water Tribe boy didn't even blink; he just scowled back at Zuko through that smeared make-up. He looked awful, but that was to be expected after sitting in the small room for so long. It might have been a sight better than any prison that Zuko had seen, but it was still far from ideal quarters.

"You will tell me," Zuko promised, and he applied a little more pressure to the boy's throat. He could feel fingers digging into his arm, trying to peel him away, but he wasn't moving, wasn't giving in to some Water Tribe boy wearing a girl's dress. He let up just enough to allow him to breathe, and then the pressure was back on.

At least, it was until someone jerked him away, and he scowled angrily at his uncle, who knelt to check on the boy as he crumpled to the floor

"You have to forgive Prince Zuko," Iroh said quietly, as he rubbed the boy's shoulders. "He has a temper."

"He is a prisoner, Uncle, not a guest. He will be treated as one." Zuko's frown deepened as the boy's eyes flashed at him.

"I won't—" He coughed, and Iroh lightly rubbed his back before he moved to stand. "I won't tell you anything. You should just go ahead and kill me." He was defiant, sticking his chin out and locking his jaw. Something about it just made Zuko angrier, made him want to push the boy back, to _make_ him submit.

"Would you like some water? Or tea?"

Both Water Tribe and Fire Nation turned to stare at the old man, and Iroh held up his hands with a sigh. "Just because you are our prisoner doesn't mean we must treat you as an animal. We are all honorable men here. Prince Zuko," Iroh got to his feet slowly, as though it pained him, "we should send him something to drink before we ask him to speak to us."

The boy was so shocked at this that he didn't even try to attack them again as they left, Iroh firmly pulling Zuko along behind him.

"What was that, Uncle? I have to question him—"

"You will get nothing out of him like this." Iroh's voice was calm, certain, and it made Zuko falter. His uncle was a brilliant tactician. If nothing else, Zuko could assure himself of that. There were glimpses of that brilliance from time to time, and Zuko simply had to remind himself that it wasn't until after he saw them that he often realized how clever his uncle was.

"What do you suggest we do then?"

"Be a little more... flexible in your dealing with him. Treat him as a person." Iroh waved down one of the crew and requested that they take a pitcher of water, a cup, a bowl, and a washcloth to the prisoner. Only, he called the boy their 'guest'. Zuko sighed loudly.

"How does treating him as a person get me what I need?" He didn't like this deception, this attacking problems from the side. He wanted to run in, to charge and attack. He wanted to see what he was fighting and know the tactics that worked on it.

Iroh offered him a strange smile, one that bordered between his usual goofy grins and something harder; almost cruel. It was something that seemed much more at home on the Dragon of the West's face than the uncle that Zuko knew. "Make him be the unreasonable one. Bend him to you instead of trying to break him."

Zuko stopped walking mid-stride and cast a look at his uncle. He turned the words over and over in his head, his frown deepening as he considered that. The boy was certain he was right, was certain that this was a fight— and he was right about that; it was a fight, one that Zuko did not plan on losing, and his eyes widened slightly as he glanced at his uncle again. He nodded slowly. "Flexible," he said, and when Iroh nodded at him, he straightened his back, drew a steadying breath, then stalked down the hall. He could be flexible; he just needed a few things first.

He took his time collecting clothes— it wasn't hard, there were plenty of spare uniforms on the ship, and he found one that looked like it might fit almost right away; the rest of the clothes were pulled from a trunk that Iroh had been working on ever since they'd left the Fire Nation, packing clothes into it at nearly every port. Zuko wasn't even sure why his uncle bothered, but it didn't stop him from doing it, no matter how often Zuko pointed out that it was a futile effort, that there would be no one to wear any of those clothes until after Zuko had restored his honor, had returned home. At least now the clothes would be put to use now, would be used to leverage the boy into wearing what Zuko wanted him to, into giving him that victory if nothing else right away.

Bending him would be easier after Zuko had scored one victory.

He didn't bother sorting the clothes from the trunk, just grabbed them and hauled them up in his arms before he headed back to the room the boy was being held in. He shoved the clothes into the arms of the first soldier he walked by, then he pushed the door open and motioned for the soldier to drop the armload of clothes in the middle of the floor. The boy jumped, blinking up at him, lowering the rag from his face slowly, and Zuko tilted his head slightly toward the door. The soldier needed no other encouragement before he left the room. Zuko gave him a very low order, an order to stay there that the boy couldn't hear, and shut the door behind him before he studied his prisoner.

The boy had cleaned up well enough, and without all of the make-up, Zuko realized that there wasn't necessarily a whole lot that could be considered feminine about that face. His dark hair was short— too short by Zuko's standards— and it brushed just past high cheekbones in the front, but it was even shorter in the back. It was some sort of Water Tribe thing, because this boy wasn't the first Zuko had seen wearing it. His jaw was too wide for a girl's, and his mouth was a little wide to sit comfortably on his face.

Zuko's gaze narrowed as he studied him, then he tilted his head, cleared his throat, and he pointed to the pile of clothes. "If you change, you can come out. There is a guard outside, and he will show you to more... accommodating quarters." He started to leave, and he stopped, hand on the door. "What is your name?" He glanced back after a moment, when the boy didn't answer him, and his frown deepened. His uncle wouldn't have approved of that though, and he drew a breath before he worked on finding a smile to give him instead. "It's only fair," he added. "You know mine."

"Everyone knows who you are," the boy replied sullenly, and Zuko had to work to keep his smile in place. As it was, from the expression on the boy's face, Zuko was pretty certain that he had only managed to make it more pained. Finally, there was a muttered, "Sokka."

Zuko didn't respond before he stalked out of the room, leaving Sokka to make his decision, and he nodded to the guard posted at the door before he clarified his order for the man to stay where he was. If Sokka cooperated, he would be moved into one of the guest rooms across from Zuko's. At the very least, Zuko would be able to hear him if he tried anything too foolish.


	2. Decisions and Determination

**Title**: Silk  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Chapter Rating**: Teen.  
**Chapter Content Notes**: Author chose not to use warnings.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 1994 words.  
**Author's Notes**: None.

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**(3)**

Sokka sat in the room for a long time, doing his best to stay angry and defiant, doing his best to absolutely refuse to look at the pile of clothes. He crept over to the door and listened, trying to tell if there really was a guard out there or if the Prince was simply plotting some sort of awful humiliation; the two weren't mutually exclusive, but Sokka didn't let himself think about that. There wasn't much more than silence through the thick metal, until he finally heard the faintest coughing noise. He frowned.

He took back his space across from the window, and he hesitated before he poured some more of the water into the large wooden bowl. He took another minute of staring at it, and then he practically shoved his whole head in the bowl; as much of it as would fit, at the very least. He blew a few bubbles, then tossed his head back up, making his hair smack against the back of his head, keeping it out of his face. He stayed like that for another minute, just feeling the water trickling down the back of his uniform, and then he reached for the rag and began to remove the very last of the make-up.

Without it itching on his skin, he felt like he could think clearly again, and his eyes cut over to the pile of clothes. There were numerous colors there, and he felt himself cringing as he realized he was actually considering changing. The uniform he wore was soiled, stained and still felt oddly from when it had been drenched by the water the Unagi sprayed over the village, saving it from the flames. He rubbed a hand over his arm, and he looked back out the window. He tried not to think of Katara and Aang, of Suki suddenly filling his spot on Appa's back. He closed his eyes.

But sleep wouldn't come, no matter how much he desperately wished for it, and he couldn't stop the images from rolling around in his head. He could see the three of them, camping out with Appa curled up nearby; he could see Katara teaching Suki the Water Tribe ways of fishing. Suki probably had lessons of her own for Katara, for Aang, and Sokka felt a tightness in his chest as he realized that within a few days, it would be as though Sokka had never traveled with them at all.

Well, aside from his clothes, folded up on Appa's saddle, his boomerang lying on top of them. He wondered how long it would take Katara to sort through his things, to find the remnants of the war paint he'd brought, salvaged from their father's belongings. He shuddered, and unable to deal with it a moment more, he eased over to the pile of clothes.

He wrinkled his nose at the Fire Nation uniform sitting on top, and unceremoniously, he tossed it aside. No matter what the other clothes were, they had to be better than that blood red and charcoal gray. He picked up the next item in the pile, and he paled before he dug through the rest of them, hoping that it wasn't true.

By the time he reached the bottom, he was scowling, having thrown several of the clothes all over the room, not even caring that it was childish. Everything that Zuko had brought him was a damned dress or a skirt— girl clothes. Well, everything was except for the Fire Nation uniform.

He fell back to his spot, and he lifted his eyes to the sky. He couldn't walk around in a dress forever, couldn't let Zuko belittle him that way. Suki and Katara both would have hit him for thinking that, he was sure, especially with him wearing the green uniform, having worn that make-up (it hadn't been that different from the war paint, honestly) because it was part of the uniform. He swallowed.

He dozed for a while, no more than just a few hours from the look of the moon, crossing his narrow slice of the sky, but when he woke, he was aching. He groaned as he stretched, tried to relieve the pain in his side. He reached for the pitcher and didn't even bother with the clay cup provided. He drank straight from the pitcher, and he rolled onto his back to look up at the metal ceiling.

If he wore the dresses— he gritted his teeth at the thought— he could move around the ship. Or at least, he could get a more comfortable cabin. He wasn't selling anyone out by it, wasn't hurting anything but his own pride. There was nothing his father had ever told him that strictly forbade what he was considering, although he was pretty sure that bartering for a better cell was frowned upon. Somehow.

It was dawn before he finally dragged himself back over to what was left of the pile, and he began to sort through them. There were two piles: maybes and definitely-nots. Anything red, black, or gray— Fire Nation colors— went into the definitely-not pile, and once he was through, he realized that he had a very limited selection left.

He lingered between the clothes, and finally, he picked up a white dress. He held it to his nose, breathing in the smell of it, the scents of spices that he didn't know and the only very vaguely familiar smell of tea. White. The color of mourning, of death. His fingers trailed down the sleeve, and he remembered, just for a minute, the day after the men left the village.

Every woman left behind had dressed in white for a week afterward, and they had been pale, drawn. Tense because they knew what no one wanted to say out loud. They didn't expect to ever see any of them again. He peeled off the green uniform slowly.

_The silk represents bravery._

He pulled the soft white dress on. Brushed his fingers over the material. It felt almost as soft as the Kyoshi uniform.

_Gold for honor._

He hesitated only a moment before he pulled the small gold medallions off of the gloves of the Kyoshi uniform. They were slipped into a pocket just on the inside of the white dress, and he tugged the belt from the uniform around his waist slowly. Knotted it.

Bravery and honor, he reminded himself. It was as much a warrior's uniform as the green dress had been. He was still a warrior, was still a man. He shook his hair out and then swept it back into a ponytail for a heartbeat. The warrior's wolf tail, and he breathed, his eyes closing as he reminded himself that nobody, and certainly no Fire Nation prince, could take that from him.

Then he let it go and knocked on the door.

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**(4)**

Zuko had slept for the night and was having breakfast when he finally heard the soldier guiding the Water Tribe boy— Sokka— to his new quarters. It hadn't taken as long for Sokka to give in as he thought it would, if he were completely frank, and for a minute, Zuko let himself try to picture Sokka in that uniform, and even as annoyed as it made him to picture someone so unworthy wearing it, there was a sharp edge of victory at the first breath of Sokka yielding, Sokka wearing Fire Nation colors when they both knew perfectly well that Sokka had to despise them. There would be a lot more of that yielding to come, but none of it would be nearly as sweet as this first hint of it. He lingered at the table, drinking deep of the moment, then he drew a breath and pushed himself up to go and open the door.

He stopped the moment he spotted Sokka, standing across the hallway. His breath caught in his throat. He certainly hadn't been expecting for his prisoner to be standing there in a white dress. Zuko didn't even remember there being a white dress in the pile he'd collected from the trunk, but there he was, standing there, looking down, his face red. Embarrassment?

Zuko wondered for just a moment what had possessed Sokka to choose a white gown— the color of weddings, of brides— in this act of not-quite surrender. Why did that combination of white over such dark skin dusted with such a faint red color do things to him?

"Sokka." Zuko signaled to the guard that he could leave. "Come and have something to eat." He gritted his teeth at the forced niceties, at the front he was being forced to put up. He didn't like sharing a meal with a boy in a white dress, but it wasn't as though he had very many other choices. He needed to know where the Avatar was, needed to make Sokka tell him. This was going to be a slow process anyway, clearly, and he didn't have time to waste lingering on any feelings that sight brought up in him.

He had to keep Sokka off of his game, had to bend him into a role of Zuko's choosing on this ship. Zuko drew a breath as Sokka shook his head. "Sokka," he said lowly, and something in his tone must have warned how irritated he really was, because Sokka finally bowed his head slightly and slid past Zuko in the doorway. He was exceedingly careful not to touch Zuko, and somehow, that was even more irritating.

Sokka sat the table slowly, as though he weren't used to the skirt, and Zuko took back his own spot. He picked up a second plate and began piling food onto it. Nothing fancy, but there was some fruit and cold meat. It was more than they had been giving Sokka; that was certain.

There was a long moment were they stared at each other, and then Zuko stuck the plate out and muttered, "Eat." Sokka's fingers stayed well away from his as he took the plate, and Sokka ate slowly. Tried to eat slowly. As soon as the first bite had passed his lips though, he lost his reservation, and he dug in with a surprising enthusiasm, clearing every bite of cold meat on the plate before he even looked at the fruit.

Zuko wondered if they'd been starving Sokka and not telling him. He wondered if that mattered.

They ate in relative silence, and once they were done, Zuko poured Sokka a final cup of water, and took him back across the hallway to his new room. Sokka was surprisingly docile, and when Zuko had locked the door from the outside, he stormed down the hallway toward his uncle's room.

He couldn't do this.

The plan had sounded so simple when Iroh had explained it, had seemed perfectly elegant as Zuko had turned it over in his head. But now, faced with the reality, Zuko didn't think he could do it. The deception was much harder than outright force. He stopped mid-stride as he realized that this was probably what Iroh had been expecting. This refusal was what his uncle had planned.

He'd never approved of Zuko's rash decision to take Sokka. He had insisted that they drop the boy off somewhere. Next port they stopped at perhaps, but Zuko had been on the trail of the Avatar, unwilling to let it slip even the slightest bit. Sokka had been the last thing on his mind. And then the Avatar was gone, and Zuko was left staring at an empty sky, the only link he had left sitting in a room in his ship. He had not been about to let that link escape him too.

He tightened his hand into a fist, slammed it into the wall, and finally returned to his cabin. He could do it. He could bend some Water Tribe boy to his will. He had to.


	3. Fear

**Title**: Silk  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Chapter Rating**: Teen.  
**Chapter Content Notes**: Author chose not to use warnings.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 3142 words.  
**Author's Notes**: None.

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**(5)**

Sokka woke to the sound of a knock on his door, and he pushed himself up to his feet very slowly, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. "What?" he muttered, and he was shocked to hear a voice answer him. He hadn't thought that he'd spoken loudly enough to be heard through the door.

"Get dressed. You can come on deck for a while."

It had to be Zuko, Sokka decided after a minute. He looked around, found the white dress that he'd peeled off the instant the door had locked, and pulled it back on. He swallowed, combed his hand through his hair, and drew a deep breath. Then he answered with, "I'm dressed."

The door opened and the bright, midday light glinting off that metal floor of the ship blinded Sokka for a minute. He held up a hand, but Zuko grabbed it and tugged him along behind him toward the brilliance. It was even brighter on deck, given the glinting water, and Sokka felt the beginnings of a headache developing. Then he was guided into the relative darkness of the cabin at the top of the ship. There was a wheel in the cabin, and Sokka realized vaguely that he could see the entire deck from there.

A game board was set up, and the old man was sitting there, inspecting the pieces with a serious expression on his face. Zuko nudged Sokka toward him, hissing, "This is General Iroh. Show him respect." Sokka wondered briefly what would happen if he didn't, but the minute that the old man looked up at him and beamed, he realized that it would be cruel to involve him in the middle of a hatred he held more for the Prince.

"General," he said softly as he lowered himself onto the cushion on the opposite side of the board. He studied the pieces for a moment, wondering what sort of game it was. He was pretty sure he'd seen it before, perhaps before the men had left the village.

"Please, call me Iroh. Would you like some Jasmine tea?" He looked so hopeful that Sokka couldn't tell him 'no.' It felt like he might have crushed the old man's hopes and dreams. He smiled, and within a heartbeat, a cup of tea was in his hands, steam curling delicately from the surface. He blew on it.

"What are you playing?" he asked curiously, and he looked up at the sound of Zuko leaving. Clearly, he'd passed some sort of test by not being outright rude. Sokka wondered how many more tests there would be before he could roam the ship. Maybe sabotage it somehow.

"Pai Sho," the old man responded. "Have you heard of it?"

Sokka shook his head and then sipped his tea. "Is it hard?" It certainly looked hard, with all of the different pieces.

The old man shook his head though, and instead, he held out a piece to Sokka. There was some sort of white blossom on the middle of the tile. "Easy to learn, difficult to master," he said, and Sokka felt some sort of shiver down his back. "Would you like to learn?"

Sokka hesitated, sipped his tea, and then he nodded. It would keep his mind off of the fact that he was wearing a dress (uniform, he corrected himself; just as much a warrior's uniform as his own clothes would have been), at the very least. He lost track of time as he studied the board, as Iroh explained the pieces and the rules. By the time he could actually play a game through, it was growing dark. He looked up from the board only when a hand reached around him to move one of his pieces. It was a move he hadn't seen.

He glanced behind him to see Zuko, eyes narrowed sharply on the board. Iroh was smiling as he moved one of his pieces, and Sokka started to respond with a move on his own. The game progressed, Zuko leaning forward whenever Sokka took too long, and he was surprised at the cleverness behind several of the moves.

No matter what they did though, Iroh was ahead of them, anticipating them. In the end, Sokka and Zuko both bowed their heads, accepting their defeat. Iroh laughed heartily at them, and then leaned forward. "We will have to play again," he said, and for all his light tone, it sounded like a decree more than a suggestion.

Zuko nodded once, sharply, then touched a hand to Sokka's shoulder. "Dinner is waiting," he said, and Sokka moved to stand. His foot caught the edge of the skirt though and he very nearly went sailing right into the board. Had Zuko's hand not caught his elbow, the pieces would have gone everywhere. Sokka felt a flush on his face, but Zuko didn't say anything about it as he kept hold of Sokka's elbow, guiding them both back to his room.

They reached an uneasy truce then, with Zuko spending the days doing whatever it was he did- Sokka heard the shouting and the fighting of Zuko training, felt him hovering in the room when he was pouring over the maps, but Sokka did his very best to ignore him- and Sokka playing Pai Sho with Iroh in the cabin. The other dresses were stored in a large trunk in Sokka's room, and he was just a little disappointed to realize that there wasn't a set of pants among them, with the single exception of the Fire Nation uniform that was wedged down in the bottom of the trunk. Sokka refused to even consider wearing it.

If he didn't let himself think about it too much, he could forget that he spent his days dressed as a girl, although there was always the jarring reality that every crew member on the ship treated him as a girl, opening doors and politely nodding when he walked by with Iroh. It was a little frustrating, but at least he wasn't in that damnable prison cell, had some sense of freedom, no matter how limited it was.

Zuko didn't outright ask him about the Avatar, but honestly, Sokka only saw Zuko when they ate breakfast and dinner together. They had developed a tolerable method of dealing with each other, refusing to look directly at one another and simply holding out a hand with a single word request when they did need something.

Iroh on the other hand was absolutely wonderful, and Sokka quickly found himself wishing that Iroh had been anything but Fire Nation. Then maybe his rapidly growing affection for the old man wouldn't have felt like such a betrayal. He forced himself to breathe as he considered it, and he walked across his room with a sigh. He leaned out the window just a bit, his hair blowing across his face, and he waved slightly in return to the guard who had noticed him.

There was a blast of heat, and Sokka jerked back instinctively at the flare of light that accompanied it. He heard his door open to the room, but he didn't look up, instead choosing to lean further out the window, craning his neck so that he could more easily see the duel sprawling out across the deck. Zuko and Lieutenant Jee, he realized, and his eyes widened as he watched them.

Both of them had stripped down to their pants and boots, and they were stepping so firm and steady in that distinctive style that the Fire Nation used to bend. He couldn't tell right away who was winning, because they were fairly evenly matched, but his eyes kept going back to Zuko, watching the way he moved.

"You don't have to worry. Prince Zuko will win," a low voice announced, and Sokka jerked back in the window to look at Iroh. A smile was on the old man's face— pride. Sokka recognized it as the same look the old man had worn when Sokka had finally managed to score a few points in a Pai Sho game.

"I wasn't—" He stopped and then sighed as he shook his head. "I haven't ever seen firebenders fight one another," he finally said.

Iroh nodded. "Evenly matched fights are the most enjoyable to watch, but Prince Zuko is fueled by his anger today. See how much more area his flames cover?" He jerked his chin toward the fight, and Sokka nodded slowly. Zuko's blasts of fire were close to double the area that Jee's covered, and he wore that singular look of concentration that he got when he was looking over maps, planning his tracking of the Avatar. Of Aang.

"Is he in a bad mood again?" Sokka leaned back against the window, and when Iroh nodded slowly, he sighed. Dinner would be an awful thing then. Zuko would probably corner him; he'd force Sokka to answer some sort of question. He wasn't looking forward to it.

"Would you like to see the match closer?" Iroh reached up and stroked a hand over his beard. "They will probably go several rounds before Prince Zuko's anger is burnt out."

Sokka hesitated. Everything in him said that no, he didn't want to be closer to an angry firebender, but at the same time, perhaps if he watched closely enough, he could see some sort of pattern to it, something that he could exploit later. That would be useful. He nodded slowly, ignoring the sudden tightness in his throat, and Iroh opened the door for him.

They stopped just short of the fight, and as a sudden blast shot their way, Iroh easily bent it toward the sky, effectively shielding both of them. Sokka felt his mouth go dry at the heat of the flames, and he took one step back, then another. He could smell the metal from the ship, the tang of the salt air— some part of him was convinced that he could smell the flames themselves.

Iroh was calling out pointers to Zuko, telling him something about the basics, about breaking the root, and Sokka leaned against the wall, his breath coming in too shallow to help steady him, but the air was so hot around him... There was another blast, and he ... this wasn't like in a fight, when he'd have a boomerang or a fan or something to fight with. There was no adrenaline here, no rush of the fight, no anything but just gasping, the air too damn hot around him. He couldn't stop himself.

He ran.

He was ashamed at his cowardice, at the sharp twang of bile in the back of his throat, and when he managed to get himself to his room door, he tugged on it. It was locked. He sighed, dropping his head against the door as he remembered the lock that had been installed shortly after he'd accepted the room. It locked each time the door closed, made it easier for them to put him away and forget that he really was a prisoner.

He heard a few more points called out from Iroh, heard another slam of a foot or a fist into the deck of the ship, shuddered, and tried Zuko's door next. He needed to be somewhere that he couldn't hear the fight; he didn't want to hear the screaming that would come from a misplaced blast. Firebending wasn't innocuous like Katara's waterbending, wasn't simply annoying like Aang's airbending. It was dangerous, and without the adrenaline of a fight bolstering his nerves, Sokka found that he couldn't handle the thought of watching someone burn, didn't want to handle the memories that those flames sparked.

Zuko's door swung open, and Sokka shut it behind him before he moved to sit on the edge of Zuko's bed, which was nothing more than a low pallet on the ground, same as the one in Sokka's room. In fact, and he was forcing himself to focus on the room around him in an effort not to picture Zuko's scar, Zuko's room was an exact mirror to Sokka's. There were broadswords mounted on the wall, and while Sokka might have reached for them normally, he was shaking so badly that he was scared he might hurt himself. He certainly couldn't have fought effectively with one of them.

There was a thundering down the hall, shouting and feet slamming against the metal floor, and Sokka swallowed, wondering which man had been hurt, who would be sporting the next scar. It felt like an eternity before the door finally opened, casting light across the room, and Zuko made a low noise as he walked in.

"I thought you'd run," he said. Then he leaned into the hallway and shouted, "I have him. Stand down!" The door shut, and Zuko folded his arms across his chest as he looked at Sokka.

Sokka swallowed, glanced up, and was relieved to see that there weren't any fresh burns on Zuko. The thought of burned flesh made his stomach churn nervously again. "Where would I go?" he finally managed, and Zuko shrugged.

"What are you doing?" He crossed the room and sat down beside Sokka on the bed in the relative darkness, his frown deeper now than it had been on deck during the sparring match.

Sokka quickly stood. "If you can unlock my door," he said, bracing himself, doing his best not to let his voice quiver, "I'll go back in there."

But Zuko's hand caught Sokka's wrist, and his eyes widened a fraction, Sokka could see the gleam of them in the dim light, as he held it. "You're shaking." He sounded amazed, as though the thought of something having frightened Sokka was strange, foreign to him. "What happened?" His voice grew darker, firmer, and Sokka jerked his hand back, rubbing his free hand over the wrist Zuko had touched.

"Nothing," Sokka said quickly, frowning as he gently rubbed his wrist. Zuko's touch felt warm, but Sokka was almost certain that he was imagining it. Firebending didn't leave the bender's hands any warmer than they normally were. The burning sensation in his wrist was simply in his head.

Zuko scowled at him before he carelessly lit the candles beneath the dragon's head mask on his wall. Sokka couldn't stop his flinch from the sight of the fire, and Zuko's eyes widened a moment as it must have suddenly dawned on him. He hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm not going to—"

"Hurt me?" Sokka snorted as he looked at the candles, and he took another step back from Zuko. "That's all Fire Nation does is hurt people." He shivered at the look Zuko gave him, but he stood firm, knowing full well that he was right in his opinion, knowing that even if Zuko threw him back in the prison cell, he had been in the right. He had to stand up for himself, didn't he? What sort of man—

But then he wasn't a man was he? He'd never gone ice dodging, never been initiated by the older men of his village. And now he was standing in front of the Prince of the Fire Nation, and he was wearing a pale blue dress that nearly swept the floor. He felt a heat rising in his face, and he quickly looked away.

The silence was palpable in the room, and so help him, when Zuko finally leaned forward, finally reached out and touched his wrist again, he shivered under the feather light grip. Zuko pulled him closer, pushed him lightly to sit back on the bed. Then he asked, "Doesn't the girl bend?"

"Water," Sokka answered, and then he clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing that without meaning to, he'd told Sokka something about his group, something that he didn't need to. Zuko smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I already knew that," he said softly. "I meant it ... aren't you used to benders?"

Sokka drew his knees closer to himself, aware that it was an exceptionally girly thing to do, especially in that dress, but wrapping his arms around his legs gave him some sense of comfort. Some sense of being held. "Not... really," he finally said. Sure Katara could bend, but she was the last, the only one, and it wasn't like she could bend very well.

And she certainly couldn't bend without drenching Sokka in the process. Briefly he wondered if Suki had taken his place in getting soaked each time Katara decided to bend something.

Zuko nodded slowly, and then he said, "You fight well. Given your fear of fire."

"I'm not afraid of fire!" Sokka scowled as he unfolded, glaring at Zuko. "But I can't see you bending without—" He stopped. He had done his best not to remember the day the Fire Nation invaded, not beyond the loosest outline of their troop movements so that he could teach the children of the tribe what to expect. He folded back up, resting his chin on the tops of his knees. He didn't say anything else.

Zuko frowned, and finally, he pulled a key from a pocket inside of his shirt. He held open the door when Sokka slipped past him, and he let Sokka hide in his room for the rest of the evening. They stopped somewhere, and Sokka purposely avoided the window, knowing that it would do him no good to see the port, too long to walk in it, where he might be able to actually get away.

They must have gotten a report on the Avatar though, because they reloaded the ship as quickly as possible and were leaving the port within what had to be record time. Sokka noted that from the crew's practiced reaction, this had become the norm. They sailed almost the entire day, and just as the sun was setting, they slowed to a stop.

Zuko and Iroh both left the ship, and Sokka considered an attempt to escape in that moment. He glanced out his window, wondering if he could manage that climb down, and he finally decided that the risk wouldn't have been worth it. Not given that the place they'd stopped at looked suspiciously like some sort of prison way out there in the middle of the ocean.

Sokka changed into the nightgown left in his closet, laid down, rolled over to one side, and pretended to be asleep when he heard Zuko stomping back to his room across the hall. There was a pause, and Sokka clenched his eyes more tightly shut, but Zuko didn't come in. Didn't knock, didn't do anything. Sokka just faintly heard the door across the hall open and shut, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

He didn't think he could have dealt with much more excitement that evening.


	4. Patience

**Title**: Silk  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Chapter Rating**: Teen.  
**Chapter Content Notes**: Author chose not to use warnings.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 3227 words.  
**Author's Notes**: None.

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**(6)**

Zuko didn't know why it had bothered him so much to see Sokka flinch from the firebending. Maybe it was because Zuko had a certain amount of pride in each movement he could do, each little dart of flames from his body made him swell with pride. He had fought, clawed, and scraped for his abilities, and he had a right to enjoy them, to use them.

But after seeing Sokka curled up on his bed, asking to go back in that locked room, Zuko had felt a different sensation infusing him each time he bent fire. He sighed, scowled at the memory, and then pushed his breakfast around on the plate a little more. Sokka hadn't eaten with him since that disastrous evening, and Zuko was even more annoyed to realize that he missed it.

It was impossible to tell how long it had been since Zuko had taken Sokka from Kyoshi Island since Zuko didn't see a point in trying to keep up with how long he'd been away from his home, how long he'd been chasing the Avatar, but somehow, Sokka in his brightly colored dresses walking along beside Uncle Iroh had become such a staple that several of the crew were even asking if Sokka were well. Zuko drummed his fingers along the edge of his table.

He shoved himself back after a few minutes, refusing to tolerate it any further, and he walked across the hall. They were scheduled to stop soon. He would let Sokka walk around on the beach; perhaps that would cheer him some. At the very least, it would help Zuko find some peace of mind. He rapped briskly on the door, and when he heard Sokka's faint noise of inquiry, he called, "Sokka, we're stopping soon. Do you want to walk around?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Zuko could hear Sokka moving. If he focused, he could just hear the whisper of fabrics as Sokka dressed. He closed his eyes, wondering why that image would stick in his head, why when he closed his eyes, the thought of Sokka, of those bright fabrics sliding off of that darker skin was so foolishly appealing. He unlocked the door just as Sokka reached it, and when Sokka stepped out, Zuko wondered why on earth he'd thought it would be a good idea to start dressing Sokka in girls' clothes to begin with. The plan was backfiring, and Zuko didn't much care for it.

There was no changing it now though, and instead, he simply shut the door and walked Sokka over to his room where the remains of breakfast waited. "You'll have to eat something," he said firmly, and he held out a plate to Sokka.

Sokka quickly piled food onto the plate, and Zuko was relieved to see Sokka eat so well. Perhaps Sokka was beginning to feel better then. He finished off his own breakfast, and only then did he lead Sokka on up to the deck. Several of the guards smiled when they saw Sokka, and Sokka offered them each little waves, as though he were completely oblivious to just how much they enjoyed having him there.

Probably because he wasn't their spoiled Prince, Zuko reflected, well aware of what they thought of him. He didn't have time to care though, because now that the Avatar was out in the open, there was actually a chance that Zuko could catch him, that Zuko could restore his place in the kingdom. Zuko closed his eyes with a sigh, opening them only at the sound of his uncle's voice.

"Would you two like some tea?"

Zuko waved a hand, turning the cup down, but Sokka took one easily enough. He didn't understand exactly what the appeal was of the hot leaf juice, but it made Sokka smile as he spoke with Iroh, exchanging pleasantries, so Zuko didn't say anything about it. Instead, he turned to the charts out on the table, reaching out with a look to the helmsman.

"We're stopping here," he confirmed, and his eyes lifted to meet Sokka's across the table. Sokka glanced over the map, then looked back to Iroh. Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Can you read a map?" He watched Sokka consider the question before he nodded, shrugging as though it weren't important, and Zuko wondered if that meant the Avatar had lost his navigator.

That would certainly explain the erratic route that had been taken, that Zuko could piece together given the reported sightings of the Avatar. He looked back at the map, listening as Iroh commented that he had sorely missed playing Pai Sho with Sokka the past few days.

And Sokka, the little prick, had the nerve to reply with a comforting pat on Iroh's arm and a low, "I wasn't really feeling up to playing anyway."

Zuko gritted his teeth as he cast a dark look at Sokka. No matter how innocent he played with Iroh and the crew, Zuko knew that Sokka had been purposely avoiding them— all of them— because they were Fire Nation. Because he needed to prove to himself that— Zuko stopped himself there, and his frown deepened. Sokka had been proving that he had some sort of control over his situation, that he didn't have to interact with them if he didn't want to, and Zuko had gone along with it without even realizing. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

He bit his tongue until they landed, until they had gone ashore in the smaller boat. The crew would cycle the time on shore, letting everyone who wanted to walk around on land do so, but Iroh and Zuko and Sokka would spend the entire time there. Iroh took Sokka by the arm and led him away almost immediately, and Zuko ignored the surprising shot of pain through him that it caused. Normally, Iroh took him by the arm that way, so excited to show him some sort of foolish nonsense.

Not that it mattered. That would only have led to more time wasted. He located the fisherman he wanted to speak to, and when he confirmed that the man had indeed seen that cursed flying bison only a few days prior, Zuko stormed back to the ship. He wanted to leave right away, wanted to pack everything back up and take off in the direction the fisherman had pointed, but he realized with a vague sense of unease that if the man had spotted them a few days ago, it was unlikely that they had lingered.

He reached up and rubbed his forehead. None of the crew spoke to him, although they all exchanged uneasy glances, clearly concerned that he was going to immediately call for them to cast off. He lowered himself to sit on a log nearby slowly, the motion nearly painful as he struggled to keep himself calm. A great leader was patient; that was what Iroh kept saying. Zuko could be patient. At the very least, he could exercise his patience; maybe reassure himself that he wasn't as much of a failure to his uncle as he was to his father.

He closed his eyes, turning his face toward the sun, and he breathed. _The fire comes from the breath, Prince Zuko._ That was what Iroh kept insisting, kept trying to tell him. Zuko focused on that sensation, his lungs filling and emptying, trying to figure out exactly what Iroh was getting at. Firebending was easier when he was angry, and while he wasn't the prodigy his sister was, Zuko was far from incompetent. He'd compensated for his lack of natural talent by pouring more time than most into his training.

On the ship, it wasn't like he had much else to do. Track the Avatar and bend; train and watch the skies. He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes— he didn't remember closing them— to look at the sky. For a moment, there was the slightest hint of peace stealing over him, because with solid ground under him, warm sunlight on his face, what else could he feel?

Then one of the crew dropped something, let it crash to the ground, and Zuko stood, frowning sharply at them all. He didn't have time for this, didn't have time to waste looking at the sky and attempting to decipher his uncle's ramblings. He had to reload the ship, had to find that damned Avatar so that he could go home and meditate in the quiet of the gardens. Not on some forsaken Earth Kingdom shore.

He stormed through the forest near the shore, his scowl deepening as he pushed through the greenery. His uncle had taken Sokka off this way, cheerfully laughing and explaining something about the lay of the land. He followed their path easily enough. Sokka's long skirts had swept the ground and apparently caught on plants as he walked past them, making it painfully obvious where they'd gone.

"Uncle!" Zuko jerked his leg away from some sort of prickly vine that seemed determined to slow him down. "Where—" He fell quiet as he entered a small clearing, where Sokka was laughing. The laughter was so carefree, so... open that it made Zuko stop in his tracks.

Sokka, even in a dress, didn't act like a girl. There was nothing like a coy glance or giggling behind his hand. He laughed loudly, head thrown back, he just never laughed around Zuko. Looking ahead, Zuko spotted him sinking down in some sort of natural crater beside a similar one that Iroh was lounging in. The water in the crater was steaming, and Iroh waved happily when he spotted Zuko. Iroh's clothes hung over near the branches that Zuko pushed past into the clearing, but Sokka's were right there, dress— today's was a pale yellow with scattered white blossoms on the fabric, it didn't really suit Sokka's coloring, but Zuko was half sure that Sokka didn't care— just out of reach so that if Sokka splashed, it wouldn't get wet.

Iroh leaned back, giving Zuko a wide smile as he waved him over, but Sokka just sank a little lower in the water, until it nearly brushed his chin, his smile fading, and Zuko was torn between asking him if he was all right and laughing at how absurd his own life had gotten. He left his prisoner with his uncle for a few minutes, and the next thing he knew, they were both soaking up hot water as though they were on some kind of pleasure cruise.

"Prince Zuko! Good of you to join us. I was telling Sokka—"

"That we're leaving, I hope," Zuko said, cutting his uncle off sharply. "You were, weren't you?" It was easier to focus on that, to remind them all what he was actually after here. He wanted to go home, wanted to stop spending his days aboard that ship, wanted to stop chasing the Avatar. His jaw tightened.

"Really, Prince Zuko, you should get in. The water is the perfect temperature. I heated it myself."

That explained how these craters were full of hot water; hot springs didn't form this way naturally. Zuko could feel a muscle in his jaw starting to twitch.

"We don't have time for that. The Avatar's been spotted near here, and we're leaving. Now."

Sokka sighed, sinking down just a little more in his water, it was just under his nose now, and Zuko scowled at him. Iroh just stretched out some, seemingly quite comfortable in where he was.

Zuko's temper snapped. "Now, Uncle," he repeated. "Sokka, get out."

Sokka wrinkled his nose at Zuko, but he obediently started to rise, and Zuko's interest was momentarily captivated at how Sokka slid out only enough to reach and grab his dress at first, holding it in front of himself as he started to leave the water. Then his focus shattered when Iroh started to stand and stretch, and Zuko made a sharp noise as he held up a hand to cover his uncle's nudity.

"Right. Tell you what," he said finally, and as Iroh gratefully dropped right back down in the water, he crossed the clearing. "Take another few minutes. But half an hour, Uncle. We're leaving in half an hour, and if you're not there, we'll leave without you."

Sokka didn't actually have anything to dry off with, so he pulled the dress on right over his wet skin, and Zuko reached out and caught Sokka's elbow, keeping the Water Tribe boy within sight. He wasn't about to allow a prisoner to escape on him or his uncle. Sokka scowled at him, muttering something that Zuko didn't catch. Zuko didn't care enough to make Sokka repeat himself.

He stalked back to the boat, Sokka in tow. He was far more annoyed than he probably should have been, but all he could think of was the simple fact that the Avatar was getting away, going somewhere, and if Zhao caught him first, Zuko would never get to go home. The thought was enough to chase away even the appeal of Sokka in his dress.

At least, it was until they got back on board and Sokka jerked away from him. There was something about the frown on that face, the way he stormed back toward his room—

Zuko swallowed, his eyes narrowing. He had half an hour, he reasoned. He had promised at least that much time to Uncle Iroh. He called out some orders to the crew— be prepared to leave within the hour— and then he followed Sokka into the hallway with the rooms. He didn't let Sokka disappear into his room though, didn't let Sokka have any control over the situation; instead, he caught Sokka's arm and pulled him into the room across the hall. Sokka's eyes widened, and he looked up at Zuko with something bordering on fear. He was nervous?

Zuko took his time. He pushed Sokka on into the room, studying him carefully, trying to figure out what exactly it was about this combination, about the fact that the boy was wearing a dress that held his attention. His hair was growing, and from the way Sokka kept reaching up to scratch at the part that had once been shaved, it probably was beginning to itch. But the best part, the part that kept Zuko staring, was the way Sokka was at once defiant and yielding, clearly wanting to argue but too uncertain of his position to actually do so.

He was the prisoner, though. It was fitting that he stay off balance and uncertain. Then again, if he were a proper prisoner, Zuko would have gotten some sort of information out of him beyond the knowledge that the girl— the owner of the necklace hidden away in his pocket— was a bender. He smiled just slightly at that thought. He did have leverage, after all.

He pulled the necklace from his pocket, and Sokka's lips parted. "Where did you get that?" Sokka shifted quickly from compliant to bristling, because his hands tightened into fists and he took a step toward Zuko.

"I thought it might be hers." Zuko nodded sharply, satisfied now that he had his confirmation. He pointedly ignored the question, ignored the sudden intensity that Sokka was looking at him with. He tossed it up, caught it, and returned it to his pocket. It was that instant, the moment it vanished from sight, when Sokka lunged at him.

They both hit the ground, and Sokka was scrabbling, trying to get the necklace away from him. Zuko growled as he shoved Sokka off of him, leaping back to his feet. Sokka swung, fist tight, and Zuko caught it in his own hand. There was a rush of something in him, something that made him feel strangely alive. Sparring with the lieutenant didn't bring this out, didn't give him that same satisfying surge of power.

Sokka wasn't sparring, wasn't fighting him because he'd been instructed to. Sokka was fighting for something real, even knowing that Zuko was a bender, that Zuko was a better warrior. He sharply twisted the hand in his grip, making certain to use enough of his own weight in the motion that it sent Sokka flying across the room where he slammed against the wall and fell to the floor, a crumpled heap of yellow and white. Zuko glanced at the necklace once more— Sokka had managed to get it out of his pocket at least— but the sound of Sokka jerking one of the broadswords from the wall was more than enough to jerk him back to the present.

Quickly, he shot a wave of flame at Sokka, but there wasn't the same reaction there had been immediately after the duel. Instead, Sokka simply braced himself and used the flat of the blade to divert as much of the fire as he could; he was filled with that same sense of desperation that had made him fight the first time, back at the South Pole, and again in Kyoshi. He assumed a fighting stance, but Zuko realized in a heartbeat that he wasn't familiar with the broadsword.

It wasn't a spear or a boomerang, wasn't his natural weaponry. His stance was clearly adopted from Zuko's, from having watched Zuko duel on deck. Zuko couldn't stop a slight grin. It was gratifying to know that Sokka spent time watching him, and watching him closely enough that he almost had the stance right. It meant Zuko's fascination hadn't simply been one-sided.

But Sokka wasn't a firebender, wasn't used to actually fighting them either. Zuko stomped once, twice, and spurts of flames danced along the hem of Sokka's skirt, Sokka cried out as he leaped forward, sword brandished. Zuko sent another burst of fire that did make Sokka flinch. Everyone flinched when fire kissed their faces.

Zuko used the momentum to knock the sword from Sokka's hands, to trap him against the wall. His hand wrapped around Sokka's throat, and when Sokka looked up at him, there was such a sense of despair in that face that Zuko felt himself reeling.

"Do you want it that badly?" Zuko could understand that desperation, the desire to cling to pretty much anything that reminded him of home. He only needed to look around at his own room to see proof of that. Sokka swallowed before he nodded. Zuko could feel the motion behind his hand, and it was vulnerable, sparking something in him that he wasn't familiar with.

"Zuko..." Sokka hesitated, and then he locked his jaw and looked away. He wasn't going to ask for it then, couldn't lower himself enough to ask a favor from a firebender. Zuko's eyes narrowed as he studied that expression of defiance, that unwillingness to cooperate.

"When you ask me for it nicely, I'll consider it," Zuko decided, and he had no idea where that came from. He held the necklace up enough that the white medallion caught the light and glittered. "Nicely," he repeated, and then he stepped back, pocketing the piece of jewelry.

Sokka scowled at him, and Zuko decided that he didn't really care. Sokka could dislike him— no. Sokka was supposed to dislike him. Water Tribe and Fire Nation were polar opposites; Zuko was the captor and Sokka was the captive. They couldn't have been friends.


	5. Lost and Found

**Title**: Silk  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Chapter Rating**: Teen.  
**Chapter Content Notes**: Author chose not to use warnings.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 4457 words.  
**Author's Notes**: This might be my favorite chapter so far, but even as much as I like it, I know I'll like the next one even better. So excited for the solstice!

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**(7)**

Sokka paced in his room— his cell, he corrected himself sharply— with a frown, trying to figure out just what he was going to do. He didn't particularly want to ask Zuko 'nicely' for the necklace, but the thought of leaving it in Zuko's possession simply grated, grated on him in a way that nothing else ever had. His head came up as he heard the commotion outside, shouting and calling for something... the komodo rhino, maybe? His gaze darted quickly over to his door, and after only a heartbeat, he headed over to it, pressing his hands against it and studying it closely, wishing that it didn't have that lock on it. The weight of his hands moved it a fraction though, and his eyes widened as he tested his luck—

Sure enough, the door eased open, squeaking horribly as it did, and he stilled for a heartbeat, wondering if anyone had heard that. Then he decided to just go for it, pushing the door open and stepping out into the hall, glancing sharply down either end of the hallway. The soldier who had put him in his room after Zuko had left must not have shut the door quite all the way. If it latched, it locked, and Zuko always tugged on it to make sure it locked before he left. Clearly, all of his soldiers were not as diligent. Zuko's grin widened, and after just a minute, he focused on his door, then knelt and ripped a narrow piece of silk off the bottom hem of his dress, folding it up and wedging it between the frame and the door's latch. Sure enough, he could pull it open again after he closed it.

That was useful, and maybe he could find something sticky to keep the fabric there, to keep the fabric from fluttering down to the floor when the door was eventually opened. He would have to watch for something he could use.

For now, he was content pocketing the silk, shutting the door, and heading down the hall, toward the deck, away from the engines only because it was where the komodo rhinos were kept, and if Zuko was calling for one of those— Sokka could hear his voice now, ringing through the ship, demanding that the crew hurry up— he must have spotted Aang and Appa. If he had, maybe Sokka could use the chaos to cover getting off the ship...

He pressed against the wall as he neared the corner, listening to the soldiers as they jogged along, rushing to get the komodo rhino and the gear for it. They were talking, exchanging words about Iroh, about him missing and Zuko leaving to go get him back.

Sokka's stomach dropped, and he pushed off the wall, glancing down the hall sharply at them. Iroh? Why did Zuko need the komodo rhino to go after Iroh? Had something happened?

Zuko had left to go fetch him, drag him out of the hot water and back onto the ship, and he'd taken a few soldiers with him just in case Iroh had dozed off and proved difficult to wake. But if Zuko had returned in this kind of mood with no Iroh and was demanding the komodo rhino...

Someone must have taken Iroh. Sokka's mouth went dry at the thought, and he didn't let himself hesitate as he headed straight on up to the deck, his thoughts of escaping fading for now under the threat of someone actually taking the old man. Iroh had been kind to him, had been more friendly than just about anyone had since Sokka had left the South Pole, and Zuko didn't think before he rushed into anything. If he was going after Iroh with the same single-minded purpose that he chased Aang with, it was entirely possible that Zuko would end up getting Iroh killed.

No one seemed to notice him out and about without a guard, not when he was headed somewhere with such purpose— it was a good thing to know, and he could probably use that to his advantage later; he was Aang's spy on this ship, and thanks to his dress (warrior's uniform), people underestimated him here. He could probably manage to be useful; maybe even sabotage Zuko's ship entirely if he was lucky. Then Aang would have enough time to get away from where Zuko could find him.

But that was for later. It was for after they found Iroh and Sokka figured out just what was going on.

He stormed out onto the deck— it was dark out already, but this deep into winter, that didn't surprise him— and Zuko was the first one to spot him. The prince turned on his heel, and his shout died in his throat as he spotted Sokka standing there, arms folded in front of him, eyebrow raised as he tapped one foot. Zuko's eyes narrowed sharply, and then he stalked over to Sokka, straight-backed and scowling. He was always scowling though, so Sokka didn't let it bother him. He just smiled, sharper than he meant to.

"What's going on?"

"What are you doing out here?"

They spoke at the same time, and neither one of them was willing to yield, so for a long moment, neither of them got an answer to their question. Then one of the soldiers called, "Prince Zuko! The komodo rhino is ready! Will you need an escort to assist in retrieving the General?"

Sokka's smile faded, and he glanced between the soldier and Zuko. "Iroh? What's happened to Iroh?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. You're going back to your room—" Zuko's mouth tightened as he waved over the soldier, but as the man reached for Sokka, Sokka shrugged him off, stepping closer to Zuko and grabbing a handful of his sleeve.

"I wanna go with you. I can help."

"You're not leaving this ship," Zuko countered, and he reached down, peeled Sokka's hand off him. But he didn't let it go right away, just stood there, studying Sokka for a moment. Then he asked lowly, brows drawn, "Why would you help me anyway?"

Sokka jerked his hand back from Zuko, and he scowled. "Maybe I don't wanna help you. Maybe I just wanna help Iroh."

Zuko's gaze sharpened, and when the soldier reached for Sokka again, Zuko was the one who intercepted, wrapping his hand around Sokka's wrist and pulling him in close, closer than they'd ever been before except for when they were fighting. Sokka's breath caught in his throat, but he didn't look away from Zuko; he didn't dare. He could stand on his own two feet, didn't need Zuko's permission for that. Besides, what would Zuko even do to him? He needed Sokka, needed what Sokka could potentially tell him about Aang.

"You want to help me get Iroh back?" Zuko asked, his voice low and right there against Sokka's skin. Sokka's jaw tensed, and his hand flexed in Zuko's hold, tightening into a fist.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. You gonna stop me?"

For a minute, Zuko was quiet, and Sokka wondered if he'd pushed too hard, if this was when Zuko would shove him back into the soldier behind him, lock him up all over again. But the push never came, and instead, Zuko turned on his heel and just pulled Sokka along behind him, stopping at the komodo rhino's side. Sokka stared up at the thing, wondering just how he was supposed to climb up there in this dress, but before he could even make an attempt, Zuko vaulted up there, leaned down and grabbed Sokka's arm, and jerked him up behind him.

"We will be back with the general soon. Keep the ship ready to go," he ordered, and then they were off, racing down the gangplank to land, and Sokka sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed closer to Zuko's back. Zuko seemed to anticipate every rock of the komodo rhino's gait, moved with it, but Sokka wasn't sure he even felt a rhythm to move with, and he set his teeth against the jarring, tried to just press close enough to Zuko that when Zuko moved, Sokka would move with him.

Zuko shifted in front of him and Sokka realized that this had to be uncomfortable for him, but really, Sokka wasn't certain he even cared. It served the prince right for him to be a little uncomfortable. Sokka had been uncomfortable ever since Zuko got his hands on him.

"Who do you think took Iroh?" he asked, focusing on that instead of how close they were, how it really wasn't that much better, being so close. He still jarred with nearly every step that the komodo rhino took.

"Earthbenders," Zuko replied tersely. He did everything tersely though, and for once, Sokka was starting to miss Aang's inability to take anything seriously. He'd have given just about anything to watch him spin his stupid marbles again, trying to get Katara's attention.

"Earthbenders? Why would earthbenders—" Then Sokka stopped, swallowed, realizing for possibly the first time just who Iroh was. The dragon of the west. The man who had laid siege to Ba Sing Se for six hundred days. Six hundred. And had managed to punch through the outer wall of the city! He might could have taken it had he not withdrawn.

Zuko didn't respond to those words, and for a long moment, they were both quiet, Sokka's fingers tightening around fistfuls of Zuko's shirt where his arms were wrapped around him to keep from falling off the komodo rhino. He had known, of course, who Iroh was, but it simply... hadn't sunk in, maybe, that the man he played Pai Sho with, the one who organized music night that Sokka never went to because he was eating with Zuko during it, the one who all the crew looked up to and respected... that he was the butcher of Ba Sing Se. How many earthbenders had he killed? For that matter, how many of his own Fire Nation troops had he thrown at the wall over the course of those six hundred days?

Zuko's voice, when he finally spoke, was very quiet; quiet enough that Sokka thought that perhaps he was imagining it when he said, "Do you wish you'd have stayed at the ship?"

Sokka jerked, his hold tightening again, and then he scowled fiercely at the black ponytail in his face. "Of course not. He's still Iroh. He's... No one deserves the sort of justice the earthbenders will inflict, do they?"

"... I'd have thought you'd agree with it," Zuko replied, shrugging faintly, his eyes intent on the road in the dark. Sokka wasn't sure what he was seeing, how he was seeing anything, but judging from the way he'd make a pass or two around an area then coax the komodo rhino into tearing off down the road, he was obviously tracking something. Sokka wondered if he could explain later what he was looking for. It would be useful to track like that—

He jerked his head back, away from Zuko's ponytail and purposely, he inched back away from him, his fingers loosening on Zuko's shirt. "Maybe. It's different with Iroh," he finally murmured, and that was weak, even Sokka knew that, but Zuko didn't push him anymore about it. Instead, he simply made a slight noise and reached down, brushing his fingers against Sokka's hands for a second before he sighed and reached back, pulling Sokka in closer to him again.

"You ride terribly," he muttered, and Sokka blushed faintly. "Look, just... stop trying to anticipate, all right? Just feel it. You can't guess how the rhino's going to move, you just... breathe with him and feel him."

Sokka frowned, raising an eyebrow, wondering what kind of mystical crap that was— it sounded like some of Katara's commentary about waterbending, about just feeling it and figuring out how to do it herself. Then he focused on the feel of komodo rhino under him, and his eyes widened as he realized that no, he really could feel the creature breathing against his legs. That was weird.

Pressed up close to Zuko like this, he could feel _him _breathing too, and he realized that Zuko was, sure enough, breathing in a similar rhythm, only a little faster than the much larger creature they were riding. Sokka wrinkled his nose slightly, and then, obediently, he started focusing on trying to breathe like Zuko, like the komodo rhino under them.

It wasn't an instant process, not by any means, but he leaned his head in against Zuko's shoulder, turning his head so that black ponytail didn't smack him in the face, and it was easier than he'd have ever thought possible to breathe like them. Match them. He dozed off like that, his head heavy against Zuko's shoulder.

.

.

.

**(8)**

They made better time after Sokka dozed off. Not because of Sokka, exactly, but because when Sokka dozed off, he stopped trying to guess how to move, and his riding improved considerably, leaving Zuko more attention to focus on figuring out just where these earthbenders were going. Judging by the way they'd stuck to the main roads, he'd bet they were headed straight to Ba Sing Se, which didn't bode well for his uncle at all. Ba Sing Se would rip him apart given the chance, possibly literally, given how the Earth Kingdom was. He gritted his teeth a little, nudging the rhino into moving a little faster.

He had to keep one hand on Sokka's arms to keep him leaning forward against Zuko's shoulder instead of falling right off the back, and Sokka somehow managed to fidget and squirm even more when he was asleep than he did when he was awake. Because that was how Zuko's luck went, apparently, and he sighed faintly, but at the same time... it was nearly endearing, feeling Sokka shift against him, lean a little more heavily against him and trust Zuko to keep him upright. Not that the trust was on purpose. Sokka probably had no clue he'd dozed off.

Zuko didn't bother waking him up until the sun came up. By that point, Sokka's squirming was unbearable, and Zuko elbowed him, hissing a low, "Sokka. Sokka, wake up." Sokka grunted protest, rubbing his face into Zuko's shoulder, and Zuko rolled his eyes, wondering just what, exactly had even possessed him to let Sokka come along on this.

Perhaps it had been the expression on his face, all daring Zuko to tell him no, threatening with nothing but his eyes that he'd fight something fierce if they tried to put him back in his room, that he might try to follow on foot if he managed to get out of his room again before Zuko got back. The last thing he needed was Sokka wandering the ship unsupervised; even Iroh, with all his affection for him, agreed with that. And besides, Zuko wanted to get a look at his door before he put Sokka in there again, wanted to make sure that the Water Tribe boy hadn't managed to rig it somehow that he could get out.

He elbowed Sokka again, and this time, Sokka muttered something about meat, then jerked awake behind him, and Zuko blew out a breath of relief as Sokka's hands tightened on his shirt again and Zuko could use both hands to handle the rhino again.

"Mm... Have we been moving all night? What are they on that we haven't caught up to them yet?"

"Ostrich horses, probably," Zuko replied after a minute, shrugging. "They can make good time if they keep to a forced march. The rhino will catch up to them eventually. They'll have to stop to water them soon."

His eyes narrowed on the road up ahead, on something that he could see laying out in the dirt. Was that a sandal? He slid off the rhino, giving Sokka a stern look as he kept the reins in hand and knelt down to pick up the sandal, eying it. It certainly looked like the ones his uncle had been wearing. He sniffed it, jerked it away from his face and ignored Sokka's laugh as he muttered, "Yeah. That's Uncle Iroh all right. He must've kicked it off."

He glanced up at Sokka, who was still grinning, and he tossed the sandal at him. Sokka caught it— decent reflexes, but Zuko had already known that from fighting him— and held it out, wrinkling up his nose as he looked at it. "Why do I have to carry it?"

"You have free hands," Zuko retorted, and he pulled himself back up onto the rhino, both hands on the reins again.

Sokka made some kind of protesting noise, but he didn't actually argue, which was just as well since they both knew that it was the truth. Sokka wedged the sandal in between them, holding it with one hand as he reached around Zuko to hold on with his other again. Zuko was mildly grateful that Sokka didn't just stick the sandal in his lap.

They traveled the whole day, stopping only when absolutely necessary, Zuko pushing the rhino harder than he would have otherwise. Then he heard it, and his ears pricked sharply, silencing Sokka's chatter about wanting something to eat, some kind of meat, with a low hiss as he sat up straighter, eyes narrowing as he tried to see as far off as he could hear. People were shouting but the heat behind it was fading, their voices lowering. The earthbenders? He turned to glance back at Sokka, only to have something catch his attention in the sky.

White and huge and floating and it was that _bison—_

"The Avatar," he breathed, and he felt Sokka stiffen behind him as he started to swing the rhino around. Sokka didn't say anything, but Zuko's jaw tightened as he glanced back toward the footprints down the road. One more look at the bison, and he scowled as he jerked the rhino back around to follow the trail. He'd find his uncle first. There was no telling what the earthbenders would do to him, and if that was them already arguing up ahead, then maybe his uncle was trying an escape. They might hurt him.

He kneed the rhino hard to make it tear down the road. He could hear them still arguing about what to do with their prisoner, arguing that he was entirely too dangerous to travel with, even chained up.

Zuko could feel tension in him coiling, and he leaned back, turning his head enough that Sokka would hear him clearly when he said, "When I go, grab the reins and hold the rhino." It was a risk, trusting Sokka not to take the rhino and just leave him and Iroh, but given his reaction to hearing that Zuko's uncle had been taken? Zuko thought it unlikely.

The sun sank down, washing the mountainside in red and gold, and the second Zuko spotted the disarrayed rocks and the slide down and the group of earthbenders all there around Uncle Iroh, he dove off the rhino. He ignored the mildly panicked squeak from Sokka, deciding that it was too late to worry about it now. If he really thought Sokka likely to try to take the rhino and leave them, he wouldn't have brought him. Besides, if he did take the rhino? He'd be in for a sore surprise given how volatile they could be.

He rushed up just as the earthbenders were preparing to crush Iroh's hands, and he threw himself into the fight, kicking away the rock and dropping his heel to break Iroh's chains so that he could help Zuko fight.

"Excellent form, Prince Zuko!" Iroh exclaimed, and Zuko couldn't stop the very faint smile, the pride welling up in him for such a thing. The man had been about to have his hands crushed, about to possibly lose his ability to bend, and he still took the moment to praise him.

"You taught me well," he replied lowly, focusing his attention on the benders around them.

One of them, the captain, Zuko surmised from the way the others seemed to take their cues from him, scowled and said, "Surrender yourselves. It's five against two. You're clearly outnumbered."

As though numbers alone won a battle. Zuko's smile sharpened fractionally, but before he could say anything, Iroh snapped one of the chains still hanging off his manacles and replied with, "Yeah, that's true, but you're clearly outmatched."

Then the rocks started flying, and Iroh was breaking them with the chains, pebbles and shards flew around them— Zuko felt them striking his hair, his skin, but he ignored them as he dodged the rocks being thrown at him, centering himself and letting his rage flare up so that he could counter with fire blasts. Then the captain was hoisting up a huge rock, one that would have easily crushed both Zuko and Iroh if it landed on them, and before either of them could react, a rock flew from well outside the fight, striking the captain in the temple and dropping him.

The rock fell on top of him, on top of the other benders that Zuko and Iroh had managed to force back into a group, and as they groaned, Zuko's attention snapped back to the ridge where the road was, where Sokka stood, reins for the rhino looped around one hand and another rock in his free hand. He tossed it up and down lightly, and for a second, Zuko wondered if he'd throw it, knock one of them out and make a run for it. Then Uncle Iroh looked up at him, smiled widely and waved, and the rock slipped from Sokka's fingers as he grinned and returned the wave cheerfully.

Zuko's teeth gritted, his temper flaring. "Now, would you please put some clothes on?" he snapped at his uncle, and he glanced back at the pile of rocks they were going to leave those eathbenders under. His scowl deepened slightly. He'd left Sokka holding the reins more to give him something to do, something to feel as though he'd helped in retrieving Iroh. He hadn't honestly considered that perhaps Sokka might fight too, and he certainly hadn't considered that he might be useful.

"Did you bring me clothes?" Iroh asked mildly, and Zuko hesitated, sighed, and then pointed to the rhino.

"Up. I saw the Avatar only a little while ago, and we might be able to find him if we hurry." After just a second, he added, voice low, "You may need to keep an eye on Sokka while I do this, Uncle."

Iroh inclined his head slightly, and they both headed up to the rhino. What Zuko found most interesting was the way Sokka looked at just about everything except Iroh, and when Iroh got on the rhino and Zuko took the reins from Sokka, he flushed. Zuko's eyes narrowed as he studied the Water Tribe boy.

"We uh... We didn't think to bring him clothes, did we?" Sokka said finally, looking at Zuko miserably. Zuko couldn't quite stop themselves momentary pleasure in Sokka's expression, and then he shrugged, as though it didn't matter at all to him.

"Sit in front of Uncle Iroh or in front of me, Sokka. Which is it?"

That was how he ended up with Uncle Iroh behind him and Sokka folded up in front of him, skirt spread out over his lap and legs and even down the rhino's neck, Zuko fighting with the reins around Sokka's sides. He kneed the rhino sharply, his temper getting the best of him as he headed off after the Avatar. All he had to do was catch the kid before anyone else did, and then he could go home and pretend his life had never gotten to this point where he had his nearly naked uncle behind him and a boy in a dress in his arms.

It took them a while to locate the village that the Avatar must have been in, and Sokka spent the whole time grumbling about wanting food and complaining that the jerky Zuko had been feeding him since they left the ship wasn't enough.

"I don't even know what kind of jerky this is. What if it isn't real food? What if it's just something you Fire Nation have managed to convince yourselves is food and that's why you're so grumpy all the time? Iroh, I don't wanna be grumpy all the time—"

"It's mouthy Water Tribe boy. I thought you'd like it," Zuko finally snapped, and Sokka twisted around to look at him over his shoulder, giving him a grin that Zuko was not prepared for.

"Maybe I would if that's what it actually was," Sokka countered. "But all this tastes like is some kind of bird. I want something good. I want _real_ food."

"We're on the back of a komodo rhino in the middle of chasing down the Avatar. What sort of real food did you think I would pack?"

"I don't know, Prince Zuko, but I think Sokka has a point. I could go for something myself. Perhaps a nice fat fish—"

"Exactly! See, that's real food!"

Zuko scowled, but before he could interrupt them, he spotted the village. He tensed, and Sokka spun around, looking it over- probably hoping to see if the Avatar was still there, if he could somehow get back to his group and away from Zuko- only to sigh the same time Zuko did. Neither of them saw the bison, and while Sokka's was presumably of relief, Zuko's was because it meant another day of chasing.

He slid off the back of the rhino, handing the reins over to Iroh, who pulled Sokka a little closer to him. Anyone who looked at Zuko quickly averted their faces, either because of his scowl and his scar or because of his uniform, and honestly, he couldn't have possibly cared less why they did it. Instead, he simply stalked up to the nicest house in the village since it was probably the chief's, and just as he moved to kick the door in, it opened. He smiled, and he knew from experience that it was a particularly nasty smile.

"Having trouble sleeping?" Zuko didn't wait for an answer, and he didn't let himself look back at Sokka and his uncle on the rhino. Instead, he simply struck, forcing the man back into his home, where they would both be out of sight. He stalked in behind him, taking the moment to pull the door shut. "Seen the Avatar lately?"


End file.
